


Love Is Just A Form Of Destruction, Honey

by Dream_addicted



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Death, Drunk Sex, High School, M/M, Psychological Drama, Psychological Seduction, Seduction, Shower Sex, Underage Sex, student!Frank, teacher!gerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 11:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11252235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_addicted/pseuds/Dream_addicted
Summary: Now he's addicted.Now he's mine.Now I'll ruin him, I'll break his heart into tiny pieces.So tiny that he won't put them back together.Now it will be sex.Now it will be blood.Blood on his white sheets.And his smile.His last smile.For me.Now it will be love.





	Love Is Just A Form Of Destruction, Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Love is just a form of destruction, honey](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/301236) by marveladdicteed89. 



> Hello, Readers.  
> This story was originally written in Italian and some of the original Pathos had been, in my opinion, been lost by translating it into English.   
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it.

At the end of the lesson, when everyone is gone, he takes me by the legs, from the chair next to my table, and he slams me on the desk with a violent and almost animalistic movement, making my spine vibrate all over.

I chuckle, leaning on just the necessary to make him pant in desire.

He's excited, I can feel it. He has that impatient smell of pre-sex all around him, that mix of sweat and fresh cologne that violently penetrates my nostrils. It makes me laugh because it just means he's in the palm of my hand.

I smile while he remains in silence, caressing me through the fabric of my clothes. Then I take him from the tie and I start licking his mouth with my tongue, slowly, leaving him to sink in the pleasure just enough to make him gasp, all while leaving dense traces of my spit on his chin.

"Oh, Frank. Fuck, fuck..." his body wants me, every single cell of him is screaming for me.

His body wants me, every single cell of him is screaming for me.

I feel powerful, filled with a new force that makes him obey me and only me.

Before this, he used to prefer my classmates Hanna and some other students, spoiling them by caressing their backs and gifting them warm smiles, or even his fingers, feathery touching them while they were hidden by everybody's eyes. He usually did it like this, a teacher selecting a group of few chosen and favorites: these kids were completely addicted to him, eating out of his hand and receiving rewards, cuddles, kisses. He used to take them to his house and he used to touch all of them, one by one, almighty. He would make them sit in a circle, in his living room, and he would walk around them for a while. Then he would start from the first, a guy called Eric Sanders, groping the boy with that soft way only his, making him scream while all the others, impatient, were thrilling on their chairs, enjoying that show as they waited their turn, dirtying slips and boxers with their liquids.

Then I decided I wanted him for myself and I claimed him, first slowly and then all in one.

If I want something I know for sure that I will have it but, more than anything, I'm a classy predator. I let my preys be the ones to feel this fatal attraction, to fall in this slow pleasure that drags them into my trap. I walk around and I barely touch them, taking them to the point where they desperately want to be caught, launching themselves into my arms.

And so I did with him.

I realized too late that this time the effect is double-sided. He is irresistibly attracted to me, the prey is torn apart by my claws, but I, the predator...I am curious towards him.

Even too much.

And this is why I took my decision.

"Professor, language..." I shake my head, pretending to be upset. Then I touch his lips with my fingers, those soft lips that are only for me now. His legs are shaking while that warmth starting from his abdomen makes his member swell incredibly.

Now it's impossible to stop ourselves. Until we don't kiss for real he won't stop and neither will I. I know it, I know it because I learned it during the long nights at his place, when I made the first move by attaching myself to his body with a violence almost childish. He, however, wasn't expecting anything different: he led me to his bed with a warm smile. He thought I would have been like the others, that he would have tamed me...but that night, confused, he realized it wouldn't have been like that. Smiling, in the dark, he understood that it was me the one leading and, docile, without a chance to resist, he let himself be dominated.

Oh, I give him an incredible pleasure. I became essential, he can't be without me: he has to touch me, he has to have my attention and my kisses, he's overwhelmed with jealousy if I look away and I ignore him.

He's mine.

Simply this.

"You shouldn't say swear words, Professor Way" I grimace while repeating the concept. I laugh again when he caresses my left nipple through the shirt as if I was some virgin girl.

"To hell" he mumbles impatient, pushing his mouth against mine so that I can bite it.

Now he's addicted, now he's mine.

Satisfied, I moan and then my teeth calmly sink entirely in his lips, biting softly like a blade soaked in poison and painkillers. I start immediately the same pattern: after two violent bites that overwhelm him, I begin from the upper lip and I chew the borders, then the lower one, then the upper one again but this time more inside...in a spiral of lust that at the end arrives at his wet and pink tongue, almost red from desire.

At the same time, I start touching his ass through the elegant trousers. It's solid and soft at the same time. I grope it slightly, already panting. It seems almost to touch the pale breast of a girl. He has that same timidity and insecurity while offering himself to me, even if I know that he can't do otherwise and he can't resist me.

"Oh, yeah!" he moans when I sneakily slip one leg in between his thighs. I start making some pressure and I encourage him with some choked groans, exciting him.

"Professor, you want me to fuck you, huh? You want me to fuck you really good, to go in deep. You want me to suck and bite your cock, to shove it inside my mouth?" I smile, whispering questions on his neck while exaggeratedly moving my lips. He nods as if he's in trance: I've got full control, it's just a body that obeys to my and to the instincts I force onto it.

The feeling of this power is amazing but it doesn't distort reality. I know that I have to be careful, that there are rules and I have to respect them.

But with him, rules had been broken.

And I am here to reestablish them.

I smile as he pants and the rhythm of my thigh becomes frantic. He wants more, more, and I just make him go insane. I make him choke with all that huge pleasure that takes his chest in a grip and numbs his mind, casting away even the last spark of reason.

But he doesn't realize it.

He's too fascinated by the spell, by his dreams and illusions.

"You will cum in me, Frank, right? You will cum in me and you will fill me completely. Then I will suck your cock and you will cum on my face too...mh, and you're gonna watch your load dripping on my chin and chest, I will lick it and then you...oh, oh!"

He stops talking and he moans because I started touching him on his sides with a seducing grin.

It seems that just the touch of my fingers provokes in him an incredible lust. I literally make him lose his mind, and I like it, God how much I like it! I keep stimulating his pelvis, whispering to his ears everything that I will do to him, listing all the parts of his body that I will touch and massage, all the holes in which I will thrust my cock into, caressing his chest and adding some random sighs.

His tie is dangling in my left hand, hot with passion.

"Frank, what do you have in mind for me? What do you have in mind, today, to entertain me?" he keeps asking, unaware, under a spell. He has to ask it, that's the ritual, because he needs to hear it from me, he needs me to say that I will fuck him until he can't walk for two days, that I will bite every muscle and I will tear apart his lips. That I will fist his ass, fuck, that I will make him moan so much that his voice will become hoarse, that at the end he will beg me to fuck him because he will see the ceiling spin and that when I'm going to enter him he will feel like passing out.

It's an indestructible bond.

He needs me to talk to him

He needs me to talk to him in order to cum, to moan in that lusty way only his, to enjoy it for real.

"Yeah..."

With huge effort and a last curse due to the pleasure, I breathe and I manage to estrange myself from that contact.

Usually, I don't even need to do that with other people: I'm used to be indifferent to every touch I receive, but with him, I need to focus on doing so.

With him, I become a prey too, a prey of myself.

I attach my mouth to his neck, expecting to feel only skin and not my heart throb with a sound similar to a gunshot. However, with a slight sense of panic, I realize that I can't get out of all of this as usual.

"Professor" I pant while making our foreheads touch, and I know I turn him on, I turn him on to death.

This awareness regarding my authority brings me back to normality and, with a grin, I leave a hickey on his neck, slightly red, delicate, of which I lick the pulsing borders for a while.

"Oh, Frank, Frank, fuck me..."

His chest, still enveloped in the white shirt he's still wearing, comes in contact with mine, covered by a black Nirvana T-shirt.

Now he needs to touch me.

He needs to be marked by my nails, he needs to chew my ear, he needs to feel his muscles throb under my teeth.

We've arrived at the point where the temptation is irresistible, that moment in which he surrenders totally, his arms becomes soft, to my service. He needs me, he needs me too much.

I could say anything and he would do it if he knew that there would be some touches between us.

I am his femme fatale.

I'm those legs he can't resist, those eyes for which he would skin himself, those hands he would like to have on himself for eternity, the forbidden body that he would like to find on his bed, naked, ready for him once he comes home from work.

"Professor, oh, professor"

A moan that I fake as desperate, impatient, too high-pitched to be really under my control.

I kiss him.

Finally our tongues, after all these games, entangle with each other for real and he totally abandons himself to my will. I cross my legs around his hips, him standing still and me sitting on the desk. Then I pull him towards me and I whisper while painting.

"Professor, my mom is waiting for me home. I've got a medical check-up..." words come out before I can even censor them in my head.

I curse myself.

What the fuck am I doing?

I can't procrastinate like this, I'm making things even too hard.

_But look at yourself, you just did it._

In all of this, he doesn't listen to me at all. He keeps kissing every inch of my lips, now even too immersed in the dimension we create just touching each other, too turned on to stop himself. I know very well that I make him go insane when I call him like that, when I mutter in a panting whisper

"Professor, oh...Professor way"

It's a pattern, a literary topos that repeats itself every time that our bodies entangle.

Professor is exciting.

Gerard is as everyone calls him, as his brother and his mother calls him, the friends, his girlfriend, his colleagues.

Professor...professor reminds him of me, it bonds him to the memory of me and it fills him of an amazing orgasm, the excitement of our moments together, of us in the art closet, in the dark.

"Mh, your mom will have to wait..."

And he crumbles on me, like a rag doll. He doesn't even have a will on his own, he's completely absorbed in my thinking, in my body. He feels what I feel, sees what my eyes see. He's lost, lost in the feeling of me close to him.

"Tonight...I'll come tonight at your place, I promise. Oh, I promise, but for now, let me go...professor..."

I pull away delicately, panting. He caresses my face, pushing his forehead against mine, sad of interrupting everything like this. I feel his erection pulsing again and I try to breathe slower.

The fact that I managed to stop myself reassures me because it means that I'm not that involved after all. Consequently, it won't hurt me too much.

But I'm angry, angry with myself.

Why did I say something like that? I have to do it immediately, I have to do it now.

With a hand, with an imperceptible movement, I touch the left pocket of my black hoodie. It's still there. Warm. It is just waiting for the contact with his skin, so small and lethal.

I look down and he holds me for a while, trying to chain me to him with his mind.

I didn't do it because the predator fell in his own trap and even if he tries to get free, he can't really get out of it.

I ball my fists while my ego rebels to my own sentence with fury.

No.

I didn't do it because I am a classy predator, and classy predators think that a great prey must be celebrated with an even greater death.

It will be the greatest of all.

It will be sheets stained with blood and the blade of the knife penetrating his fucking heart, tearing it apart to agony.

It will be his eyes closing while my last kiss wets his lips.

Together, maybe with some tears.

Because I know.

I loved him for real.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please Leave a Comment and a Kudo. It would mean a lot both for me and the Author.  
> Or also...  
> Motherfuckers don't just read leave a comment thanks.


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